


sleep is supposed to be

by flustraaa



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: 41st Division (Avatar), Episode: s03e14-15 The Boiling Rock, Gen, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Let him have a ~taste~ of sleep, Post-Episode: s03e14-15 The Boiling Rock, Sad Zuko (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar)-centric, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, Zuko is sleepy, Zuko's Scar (Avatar), bros ive never written for atla before what else do i tag, just a morsel, no beta we die like men, no editing., protective sokka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:49:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27690263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flustraaa/pseuds/flustraaa
Summary: “they never speak of the forty-first division— only of the prince who tried to corrupt his country.”“what do you think?” his voice is blunt, amber pools unable to meet chit sang’s.“i think that you tried to save them, and i think that your scar shouldn’t be a burden. you’re making peace in the world, and maybe after that— you can make peace with yourself too.”
Relationships: Hakoda & Sokka (Avatar), Hakoda & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Suki (Avatar), Suki & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 522





	sleep is supposed to be

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! this is my first atla fic so pls be kind. it is based loosely off of a poem called ‘sleep is supposed to be’ by emily dickinson.

Despite living in the bowels of a ship for years— ones that felt like an eternity and then some, Zuko never truly seemed able to find sleep. He’d search for hours, trudging through thoughts and memories that seemed to rip him out of what fitful sleep he could find. 

He’s unsurprised that little has changed, as he sits against the metal that seems to foil his own body heat; more than the frigid cooler he’d been placed in just hours prior. 

After a few hours, with sweat dripping down his brow, Chit Sang— who had been wearily eyeing him for a handful of odd moments hesitantly offered to take over. 

“It’s okay,” Zuko had responded easily, blasting more heat into the harsh, and utterly scalding furnace before him, “you should rest.”

The implied, ‘ _you don’t have to be vulnerable around me. I’m forsaken_ ,’ doesn’t seem to go unheard. 

“Prince—“ Zuko flinches, but doesn’t turn to face the gentle giant beside him, he doesn’t dare look at him with the welted and scarred splotch of crimson. The reminder what he had done— of the things he was unable to do. “If anyone needs rest, it’s you.” 

Zuko shakes his head, “I’m stronger than I look. Don’t let the sixteen year old body fool you.” 

He’s not quite sure what he expects in that moment, but it surely isn’t want he receives. 

“How about forty-one?” The comment is enough to make Zuko stop cold, shoulders dropping and head turning on its own accord. 

It’s an irony that not even destiny could’ve written in a better way, and as Chit Sang’s dark eyes focus on his cicatrix, his resolve diminishes. 

“Go get some rest, or we talk about what we have in common,” At once, the young man’s shoulders slump and he nods his head— though Chit Sang can’t help but notice the fact that the action is more similar to a bow than anything else. 

Once he’s out of ear shot, Zuko finds himself mumbling an apology that he’s not sure Chit Sang is ready to hear, and instead heads towards the bow and finds Sokka, Suki, and Hakoda speaking quietly.

Cerulean eyes blow wide at the sight of the banished prince, and he grins overzealously, if not a bit nervously— Zuko learns two things in that moment:

For one, Sokka is the _worst_ liar he’s ever met, and that the trio before Zuko were absolutely talking about him. 

Regardless, he can’t bring himself to be bothered— especially when his mind is swimming with the the number that made him the person he is today.

The second thing is that he’ll never be able to express the weight he carries through all of his mistakes. It’s suffocating, and every firebender fears drowning more than anything. 

“Zuko! Heh, what are you... what’re you doing here..... buddy?” The ivory-skinned boy blinks thrice, swallowing hard as he allows his golden eyes to pass between the group huddled around the table. “Up... here... and uh... stuff?”

He makes a flippant movement that Zuko interprets as ‘why aren’t you doing the firebending pew pew thing’.

“Chit Sang offered to take over,” he scratches the nape of his neck awkwardly, “I can... um.. go, if you guys don’t want me... here.”

Hakoda can’t help but be wary of the fire nation member before him, the confident and frankly aggressive mannerisms display prior have completely depleted— and it dawns on him, in that very moment, that this prince, the one with the scars that tell more stories than he can place... is only a year older than Sokka.

He finds himself speaking, and Zuko’s eyes snap to him, posture rigid as he does, “you’re welcome here, Prince Zuko.”

Much to his surprise, the young bender flushes with heat, “Z-Zuko is fine... just- uh, just Zuko.”

“Well, alright, just Zuko,” Hakoda pauses— borderline disappointed that he couldn’t coax a laugh out of the exiled prince. He turns instead, sending a glance at Sokka, “have you kids taken a break since you got to the boiling rock?”

Sokka’s head drops in shame, and Suki watches as Zuko’s fingers twitch dangerously at his side, “No, dad.”

“Then I guess now is as good a time as any, take a seat, I’ll see if I can scrounge up any bed rolls,” and like that, he’s gone without a trace.

Moments pass before they stir to action— or rather, a lack of action. The three teenagers settle down, backs pressed against the walls.

Sokka seems to wait until Suki’s drifted off, before following his girlfriend closely behind. He allows his back to relax, settling flatly against the chilled metal flooring.

He stares at the ceiling, positive that he’ll never find sleep.

But when Hakoda pushes open the door to find the three teenagers sound asleep, blankets in hand— he finds peace for the first time since the hundred year war took his wife and eventually his children away from him. 

* * *

When Zuko wakes— he feels like he was dropped hit head on by a sky bison. He sucks in a breath and rolls over to find a scratchy fabric draped over his shoulders.

The foreign fabric is enough to make him startle into a sitting position, and when he glanced around he sees Hakoda and Suki standing nervously while Sokka stands mere inches beside him.

“How long have I been out?” The sky is just brimming with morning light, and he comes to the conclusion that it must’ve been only an hour or two.

Sokka’s takes his inner cheeks between his teeth, before he slowly responding, “not long.” 

It doesn’t take Zuko long to realise that the look his friends— no, allies, are clad in— is a look ofunmatched worry that he’s never seen directed at him. He doesn’t like it— he doesn’t like being worried about.

In that moment, he pushes down the curiosity that peers through. Instead, presses the palm of his hand against his right eyes so roughly he sees colours, and just taps the left enough to free him of the tacky substance that weighs it down.

The water tribe boy breaks free from his stupor, and after a moment he speaks the question, “did you know you talk in you sleep?”

The raven haired boy stiffens at once, swallowing thickly before responding, “no... uh, what did... what did I say?”

Hakoda, despite the dread in his stomach at the reality and gravity of the situation, can’t help but be relieved that the firebender can’t lie for his life. A trait he clearly doesn’t take from his sister or father.

None of them are able to meet his eyes, but then— Hakoda breaks the silence, “Zuko, what do you know about the forty-first division?”

Zuko shrugs instead, shuffling out from the blanket as he heads towards the door.

And despite the decibel he mumbles it at, they all hear the heartbroken, “that I failed them.”

Sokka decides then, that maybe they had allmisjudged Zuko after all.

* * *

Accompanying woeful goodbyes, there were now overwhelmed and tearful greetings. No one notices Zuko slipping off into the day, as it appears.

That is, until Sokka hesitantly pokes his head through the doorway to find Zuko staring absently at the ceiling, arms clasped together on his chest and fingers tapping to a tune that only he seems to know.

“How does an otter-penguin put their homes together?” Zuko lulls his head to look at Sokka, and suddenly it occurs to the young water tribe member that this is the most relaxed he’s ever seen the former prince, save for about the twenty minutes on the airship that Zuko wasn’t mumbling desperate pleas in his sleep, “Igloos them together.”

Zuko is dead silent, but a traitorous huff leaves his nose and soon, he shakes his head.

“It was good, right?” He wiggles his eyebrow, stepping further into the room.

He considers saying no, but instead only nods slightly, “they’re getting better.”

“Thanks!” Sokka beams, before narrowing his eyes, “ _wait a minute_ —“

This, however, does draw a genuine chuckle from Zuko, who sits up to look at his newfound ally. They sit in silence, for a long time— only breaths passing between the incredible expanse between them.

Two nations and two completely different pasts.

“I’d always thought your scar was from a training accident, you know. With all your, pow pow, firebending slice type of action,” Sokka suddenly speaks up, his soft grin the olive branch serving to keep the mood light.

But, Zuko has never been able to keep plants alive, and Sokka’s smile falters, “my dad told me about the forty first division— and during dinner, Chit Sang told us the legend of the banished prince who tried to save his people.”

“I’m afraid he’s gone,” Zuko leans back against the frame of his bed, and Sokka can practically hear the thoughts whirring around in his head— it sounds like a broken saddle strap clanging against wood as Appa flies.

“No,” Sokka says instead, “I see him here. He’s been hiding behind a marking, basing his value off of rumours and requests.”

“Sokka, I lost that part of me when my father burned me,” Judging by the look of poorly masked horror on Sokka’s face, Chit Sang hadn’t told them about the Agni Kai.

He regains his bearings, and continues on, “I saw him when you apologised for burning Toph, when you came back with Aang, and when you saved us at the Boiling Rock. The Zuko you think is gone? He’s fighting to get out, and I see him more and more every day.”

“Are we about to kiss right now?” The sudden comment earns a surprised cough from Sokka, and when he turns to face Zuko, he finds the other boy shaking his head.

He’d have to write that one down for later— who said Zuko had no humour? Unless... _no_! Not the point.

“ _Zuko_ ,” Sokka sighs, brushing the strands of hair that had fallen from his warrior tail back in place, “our upbringings are pretty much incomparable, but that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to be here for you. We’re all here for you, even Katara- maybe.”

They sit in a long silence, and neither dares to even breathe too loud. Sokka pats Zuko’s knee, which earns a slight jolt in return from the crowned prince, “Dinner will be ready soon, if you don’t come up I’ll get Suki to sneak you some food. And... if you want to sleep near the fire with all of us tonight— there’s room.”

“Sokka?” The young water tribe boy turns, hand catching on the door frame, “thank you.” 

“Sure, buddy.”

And when Zuko hesitantly arrives with his bedroom in hand, and a smile that they’ve never seen painted across his features he wonders if maybe it’s time to tell them his villain origin story.

Though, for a moment, he allows himself to consider that maybe... just maybe, this is how hero’s come to be. 


End file.
